Not alone
by spn22
Summary: Dean is heartbroken when Sam goes to college. However, his job is to look after his little brother and that is a job he is not going to quit...
1. Just me and you

Sam stared at the email for a while. He felt so many emotions that it was hard to keep up with them. His fingers hung over the lap-top keys and then returned to absent mindedly playing with a ruler on the desk.

It had been three months since Sam had arrived at Stanford. Three months since he'd said goodbye to demons and hunting. Three months since his dad had told him never to return.

He glanced round at the dorm room. He couldn't really complain. He had his own room for the first time in his life, a room that was _his _for at least another year. Sam had taught himself growing up never to grow attached to a place, as they were never there long. The only place that had seemed remotely like home was Bobby's.

Now this..._this _was Sam's home.

Sam's cell beeped to indicate that he had a text. He leant over to his bed to grab it, eager to have a distraction from the email. He smiled. It was from Jessica, a girl he had been seeing for just over a month. Sam was hardly an expert when it came to relationships but Jessica made it easy and led the way.

_Sam! I'm supposed to be finishing this essay :S Fancy coming over and distracting me instead? Be a hero and grab a bottle [or two] of wine on your way? Feeling mischievous! ;) xxx_

Sam smiled again but put the cell down. As tempting as it was to forget the email he knew that he had to reply sooner rather than later.

He sighed and turned back to the screen.

_Sammy._

_It's Dean. I need to see you. Away from Stanford. Just me and you...promise!_

_Just reply when you get this dude._

_Dean._

Sam sighed. It wasn't as though he and Dean hadn't been in touch. Dean text Sam on a daily basis and did so, he suspected, without the knowledge of their father...but Dean had never asked to meet with Sam, not really. He also avoided computers if he could help it. How Dean had even accessed Sam's college email address both worried and impressed Sam in equal measures.

Sam hit the reply button and his fingers hovered once again over the keyboard. He made up his mind and typed quickly and skillfully

_Hey Dean._

_Okay, sure. Where and when? Is everything okay? _

_Just you and me, right? Not ready to see Dad. _

_Sam. _


	2. Text messages

**September 8th 2005**

**9.05pm**

**DEAN NEW CELL.**

_Sorry for how it turned out. Dad didn't mean it. You know that. Are you settled in your new digs? I can come and fetch you if you change your mind. Just text. Any time._

* * *

**September 8th 2005**

**10.01pm**

**DEAN NEW CELL.**

_Sammy?_

* * *

**September 8th 2005**

**10.32pm**

**DEAN NEW CELL.**

_This is not what I wanted Sammy._

* * *

**September 8th 2005**

**10.40pm**

**DEAN NEW CELL.**

_Just text me back, dude. Are you okay?_

* * *

**September 8th 2005**

**10.42pm**

**SAMMY CELL.**

_Dean, I'm fine. I'm at the student union. Talk to you soon._

* * *

**September 8th 200..**

**10.32pm**

**DEAN NEW CELL.**

_Right. Stay in touch._

* * *

_Thank you for the reviews :) Hope you keep enjoying :) _


	3. Three months apart

Sam sat in the bar, shifting nervously around on the uncomfortable bar stool. He wasn't sure why he felt so nervous. After all, it was his brother he was meeting. The person he was closest to in the world. Yet the three months apart had seemed much longer- the difference between Sam's new environment and the one he had left with Dean was embarrassingly extreme.

Sam had tried to choose a bar which was as far away from 'studenty' as he could get. This had meant two bus journeys away from campus but at least it would mean the college jibes from Dean might be reduced to a minimum. The bar staff were also incredibly lenient when it came to under-age drinking [although Sam's height usually made this a rare problem].

When Sam had text Dean the address he had been surprised to get a quick reply from Dean stating that he 'knew the place'. Sam had only been to the bar twice, once with Jessica and then again on an ill-advised bar crawl. Sam didn't remember his second visit very well.

It was a fairly old bar but it had a lived-in feel. The walls were peeling and none of the furniture appeared to match. All part of the charm, Sam decided. Sam had tried to sit away from hearing distance of any of the other tables, so he'd secured a small table by the window in the corner. Part of Sam did feel he was intruding on a local bar; the small yet packed room was full of what he guessed were locals [one man had even kept his slippers on] who, at 1pm, were already well on their way to drunkenness. Dean would love it.

Sam glanced at the clock behind the bar. Dean was fifteen minutes late. Sam began to feel more and more anxious. The thought had crossed Sam's mind that Dean would try to trick him into meeting with their Dad. Sam knew that his fall-out with his father had hurt Dean probably more than it hurt both Sam and John. The importance of family was always at the forefront of his brother's mind and Dean's hurt expression as Sam had stormed out of the door, his Dad's yells echoing in his ear, still made him feel guilty. Sam knew that if this was some kind of trick on Dean's part, it would have been done with the best intentions. However, Sam was not ready to be reunited with his father. He needed more time to be angry with him.

He jumped when he heard the familiar sound of the Impala pull up outside the building. He glanced out and his stomach lurched slightly when he saw Dean step out of the car, thankfully alone. He watched as Dean entered the bar, his eyes swiftly searching for his younger brother.

"Dean"

Sam waved a hand and Sam saw a sincere smile fill his big brothers face as he spotted him.

"Sammy."


	4. Drunken texts

**October 14th 2005**

**1.03am**

**DEAN NEW CELL.**

_Come home Sam_

* * *

**October 14th 2005**

**1:17am**

**DEAN NEW CELL.**

_Shit jist seen the time...cantsleep, having a few drinkzs...whydon't uyo jst come join me?_

* * *

**October 14th 2005**

**1:22am**

**DEAN NEW CELL**

_Me and Dad got pretty banged uo eaerlir. WE;re ok rthoigh._

* * *

**October 14th 2005**

**1:24am**

**DEAN NEW CELL.**

_i MISS yoiu Sammy xxx_

* * *

**October 14th 2005**

**1:32am**

**SAMMY**

_I miss you too, Dean. I'm sorry. Hope you and Dad didn't get banged up too badly. Get some sleep dude x_

* * *

_Thank you as ever for the lovely reviews :) _


	5. Not in our family

_Sadly, I don't own Supernatural_

* * *

"Dean"

Sam waved a hand and Sam saw a sincere smile fill his big brothers face as he spotted him.

"Sammy."

Dean had made it across the bar within two strides. Sam noticed an angry-looking scar below Dean's eye. Before Sam could open his mouth, Dean had pulled him into a fierce hug.

"Sammy" Dean repeated.

Sam clung onto the back of his brothers jacket.

"Good to see you too, Dean."

Dean pulled away but held onto Sam's shoulders.

"Let me take a look at you, all in one piece I see?"

Sam smiled, "Looking better than you by the looks of things."

"Oh, what this?" Dean indicated to his eye. "Dude, this is nothing. You should see the other guy. Or should I say evil bastard demon."

Sam's eyes shifted slightly and Dean gave a small grin as he sat down.

"Sorry, Sammy. I'll keep the D word down to a minimum."

"Thanks..." Sam grabbed the seat opposite. "...and it's Sam."

"Sorry?"

"It's Sam...not, y'know...Sammy."

Dean nodded once. "Right you are, big man."

Sam coughed awkwardly and pushed the pint towards Dean. Dean accepted it gratefully and took a long gulp.

"Steady on, Dean. My student loan only goes so far."

"Sorry." Dean drew breath. "Long drive."

Sam tapped the table and waited for Dean to speak.

"So, Dean...urm...I'm pleased to see you but..."

"...but why am I here?"

"Well...yeah"

"Can't two brothers share a drink without there being a reason?"

Sam shook his head. "Not in our family."

Dean gave a wry grin.

"Am I right?" Sam asked, eyebrow raised.

"Always, Sammy...Sam."

Sam grinned slightly and waited.

Dean appeared reluctant to speak.

"We _do _need to talk, Sam."

"Evidently."

"You're not going to like it."

"I rarely do."

Dean paused again and then spoke carefully.

"We need to talk about Jessica, Sam."

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_Thank you so much for the reviews :) Hope you keep enjoying!_


	6. You looked happy

_Sadly, I do not own Supernatural _

* * *

Sam sat stunned for a second.

"How do you know about Jessica?"

Dean leaned forward. "Sam..."

"Shut up. How do you know about Jessica?"

Dean sighed. "Sam, did you _really _think that Dad...or me... would just leave you to fend for yourself?"

Sam looked at his brother, words escaping him.

"I mean, come on Sam, it's been my job since I was a kid to look after you, watch out for you...and that's when we've been in the same building...or at the least the same city. Did you really think I was just going to let you go off alone?"

"Dude!" Sam sprang up out of his chair. He tried to breathe calmly, keeping his anger under control. "Everyone leaves home, Dean. Everyone flies the nest."

"Not everyone knows what we know."

"Dad left us alone all the time, Dean. I was a tiny kid..."

"You had me to look after you."

"We were both kids!"

"Sam...I'm four years older than you." Dean leaned back, as though that settled the argument. Sam knew there was no point in pursuing the point. Dean had been told to look after Sam so therefore he always had. To Sam, as a kid, Dean always seemed so much older...so much more responsible. As a little boy, there was nothing that Dean didn't know. No problem that couldn't be solved. No monster that could get to him. Not with Dean protecting him.

Maybe Dean believed all that too.

"So what have you been doing?" Sam asked, lines appearing on his forehead. "Stalking me? Tracing my cell?"

"I think 'stalking' is a strong word, Sam."

"Not from where I'm standing, Dean"

"Then get the hell over yourself!"

Sam looked at his brother again, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Sit down."

Sam did, out of force of habit, more than anything else.

"Sam...just cool it a bit."

"Tell me..._exactly... _how much you've been keeping tracks of me."

Dean sighed. "Okay...but, dude, you _have _to hear me out. Don't freak out on me again. Okay?"

Sam paused and then gave a reluctant nod.

"Okay. Firstly, it's been _my _job to keeps tabs on you since you left. Dad was never involved..."

"What a surprise."

"Dude, he asks after you _every day. _He regrets everything he said..."

"So why doesn't he tell me that?"

"Sam...you know he can't say that kind of shit."

"Shouldn't be that hard for him, he comes out with plenty of other shit."

"Sam!"

Sam raised his eyebrows but didn't add anything else. Dean waited to make sure that Sam had finished with his outburst and then continued.

"So...yes. I have your cell traced, just to make sure you're where you say you are. If you ever went too far off the campus radar I would pack up the Impala and come and check on you. You can sure put back those pints, dude."

Sam went to protest but saw that Dean sounded more proud than anything.

"I almost caved in and joined you on some of your pub crawls. Looked like you were having fun."

"Why didn't you?"

"You were with some pretty preppy looking people. Didn't want to cramp your style."

There was an awkward silence.

"Dean...you wouldn't have cramped my style" Sam said quietly.

"Yeah, well, I would have probably ended up punching one of them. Not our type of people, Sam. At least not _my_ type of people."

Sam allowed himself a small laugh.

"You looked happy, Sam."

Sam shifted guiltily in his seat.

"Dean...I miss you, man. I really do...but I don't miss that life...if you can call it a life. I love it here. I _am _happy."

Dean nodded but Sam saw his eyes still looked sad.

"Dean..."

"My round, Sam. Same again?"

Sam nodded. "Sure...thanks."

Dean rose from his seat.

"Dean...what did you mean about Jessica?"

Dean hesitated. "It doesn't matter anymore."

"But..."

"Sam. It doesn't matter."

He then left Sam, who felt confused with an odd feeling of sadness in his stomach and headed to the bar.

* * *

_Thank you for the reviews :) _


	7. Passenger seat

Dean stood at the bar, not even noticing when somebody pushed in front of him with a large order of drinks.

Sam was happy.

He, the big brother, was unhappy.

This was really a no-brainer.

Dean had to remind himself that Sam was no longer a little boy. No longer that ankle-biter of a kid who he would carry home after a late night hunt. The boy he would wait to fall to sleep at night to 'keep watch for monsters'. The toddler who would cling on to his hand, ignoring his fathers out-stretched one, whenever they stepped outside.

He wasn't his Sammy anymore.

Dean couldn't even face talking to Sam about the true reason he had come down to see his brother. It all sounded so selfish now.

He hadn't been lying when he had told Sam that he had been tempted to join him on his 'preppy' bar-crawls. A few times he had made to leave the car, surprise his little brother, who looked drunk enough to embrace his brother and not ask questions, at least not until the hangover made an appearance the next day. Then he would look down at his clothes; his torn jeans, his blood-stained jacket...Sam and his new-found friends, despite their drunken state, looked polished and preened. He couldn't deny his heart ached when he saw Sam look so happy, practically dancing and jumping around like a pony. His heart ached because he wasn't part of, or reason for, that happiness.

Sam didn't need him. Not anymore.

Dean had had every intention of telling Sam that he would have to leave Jessica. Not out of cruelty but because people in their line of work simply couldn't have more emotional attachments than absolutely possible. Dean had noticed Jessica more and more and felt hurt for his younger brother that the relationship couldn't possibly last. It hadn't taken long to find out Jessica's background. She seemed to come from a pretty mundane upbringing...best not to let her get sucked up into the Winchester's way of life...but it looked as though Sam had no intention of allowing that to happen. Or return to it himself.

Dean ordered two more pints and handed over the cash. Dean felt almost like the younger brother. After all, Dean had come with every intention that his brother would be occupying the passenger seat on the way home. Then things could go back to reality.

The only problem was that it was _his _reality. No longer Sam's.

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	8. Panic attack

Sam wanted to say everything that Dean wanted to hear.

He wanted to tell him that he missed hunting, the crappy motel rooms, the takeouts...

...but Sam Winchester was not a liar.

No matter how much he wanted to please his brother... the person that meant the most in the world to him...he couldn't lie about something that was so important.

Yet, at the forefront of Sam's mind were _all _the reasons that Dean had turned up. He wanted to know what Dean wanted to tell him about Jessica. He could guess. Their dad had never watered it down for them. No strings. Hunters didn't have strings... apart from family. Apart from blood.

Sam knew that Dean was beyond innocent in finding 'strings'. The difference between him and Dean was that his big brother knew when to cut them...and for the first time, Sam understood how this could, in a twisted kind of way, be considered 'kind'. What kind of sane human being would want to be mixed up with a hunter?

What kind of sane human being would want to be mixed up with a Winchester?

Sam could run from could run from being a Winchester. Sam could run and run, with Jessica in tow, from his past...but was that fair? Was that love?

Sam, very quickly, felt extremely sick.

He knew what was coming next.

Sam Winchester, as a child, had suffered from panic attacks. A psychiatrist would tell him that this was a little boy, traumatised by the absence of a mother, letting his confused emotions out. Sam Winchester would love to tell them the real reasons...he would love to give them a glimpse of his very real life. It would knock their shrink degrees out the window.

The problem was that agreeing to be a hunter...agreeing to be a full-time Winchester _changed everything. _How could you walk around living a 'normal life'? How could you date? Enjoy a meal? Watch a film?

It had been five years since Sam Winchester had had a panic attack.

As a child, only one person could control these panic attacks.

_"Sammy! Sammy, deep breaths...here, take my hand. Grip it as hard as you like. It's okay, Sammy. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. Shhh, Sammy. Breathe, Sammy. That's it. Nice and slowly."_

Dean.

Sam felt the sweat beads on his forehead. He couldn't believe he was feeling like this again. It had been so long since his last attack... he thought they had gone.

You can't pretend forever.

You can't run forever...

Sam glanced quickly at the bar and hurried, as fast as his body would allow, to the bathroom.

_Thank you for the reviews :) _


	9. I can't breathe

_Thank you, lovely people yes YOU, for your reviews :)_

_I do not own Supernatural_

* * *

Sam tried to breathe deeply as he splashed water on his face. He glanced in the mirror, his stricken face staring back at him.

It had been so long..._so _long since this had happened. He brought a shaking hand up to his sweating forehead.

_Shit...I can't breathe...I CAN'T BREATHE._

Sam backed into the corner of the room, half sitting, half collapsing into a ball. His whole body shook and unwelcome tears fell from his eyes.

_No no no..._

He had always had a silent fear that this childhood weakness ["It's not a weakness!" Dean had always said] would return to him. He didn't know why it had now decided to emerge. Why now? Why now when he had to prove to Dean he was capable of standing on his own two feet? That he didn't need his brothers hand in every aspect of his life?

Breathe. Just breathe.

Oh, shit.

* * *

Dean frowned slightly. He had assumed Sam had gone to the bathroom but he had been a while. An embarrassing amount of time.

He knew that Sam thought he was over-bearing. He couldn't just follow him into the bathroom and see if he was okay...Sam wasn't five.

Sam isn't five.

Still, so much time had gone by...

Dean reached for his cell and text quickly.

_Dude, if you aren't back in the next two minutes your pint will be in my stomach x_

Hesitating for a millisecond, Dean pressed send.

It was his job to over cautious. He had seen too much to be anything but. Especially where Sammy was concerned.

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_Reviews make me :)_


	10. Cruel optimism

_I do not own Supernatural...still_

* * *

Sam leaned against the tiled wall of the bathroom, desperate for any kind of coolness against his skin. Sweat dripped into his eyes as he desperately tried to catch some air. His body shook.

_Please...please, snap out of it._

Sam glanced down at his phone as it suddenly buzzed. Dean.

_Dude, if you aren't back in two minutes your pint will be in my stomach x_

Sam took two deep breaths. He knew he was unable to talk but dialed Dean's number, allowing it to ring out, hoping he would get the message.

_Oh, shit, shit, shit. I can't breathe. I'm going to die. _

* * *

"Sammy"

Dean was in the bathroom within seconds. He glanced at his brother on the floor, his breathing hollow [scarily so] and knew immediately what was happening.

_Oh shit, Sammy. Don't do this to me..._

"It's okay, Sammy." Dean knelt next to his brother, amazed by how calm is voice sounded despite his thudding heart. "We can deal with this. Like we always used to do. Are you with me, Sammy?"

A nod. Dean smiled.

"Atta boy, Sammy...Sam."

"Sam...Sammy."

"What?"

"You, you...can call me...Sammy."

Dean gulped once and nodded wordlessly.

"Right you are, Sammy. Now listen, take my hand."

Sam reached for his hand and Dean grasped it.

"Good boy, Sammy. Now... I want you to squeeze. Squeeze the hell out of my hand, Sammy. You know the drill."

Sam nodded slightly and squeezed.

"Good boy, Sammy. Now. Every time you squeeze, take a breath in. Okay? Ready?"

Another nod.

"Okay, Sam. Squeeze and breathe."

Sam did so, his breath shaky.

"Good. Again. Squeeze and breathe, Sammy."

Again, Sam did so. This time his breath more steady.

"Good...now, again, Sam..."

* * *

Within a couple of minutes Sam's breathing became more steady. His grasp on Dean's hand loosened slightly. Dean smiled slightly. They were nearly back on track.

"Sam?" Dean's voice sounded almost as shaky as Sam's. "Sammy?"

Sam's eyes closed. His breathing...almost stopped.

Optimism is so cruel when it is shot down so fast.

"Sammy. Oh, Sammy. No...no, Sammy...please..."

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_Reviews make me :) _


	11. Epilogue

_I do not own Supernatural._

_Thank you for sticking with this story :)_

* * *

"Sam? Sam?!"

Sam's head had fallen, unsupported onto his chest.

"Oh, Sammy. No, no, no... just breathe. _Breathe _Sammy!"

There was an agonising half a minute where Dean thought Sam had stopped breathing altogether. Then, thankfully, Sam's eyes flickered open and he let out a choking cough.

"Oh, thank God". Dean brushed a hand across his eyes. "Sammy? Sam? Are you okay?"

Sam gave a small nod and Dean let out an involuntary noise from his throat as he pulled his brother into a hug. Sam allowed himself to fall into his brothers arms, exhausted. Then, slowly he returned the hug, placing his arms around Dean's shoulders.

"Oh man..." Dean rubbed Sam's back. "Don't do that to me again."

* * *

Dean passed Sam a glass.

"Drink up."

Sam took a sip and made a face.

"Straight Rum, Dean? Really?"

"Best thing post panic attack, Sam."

Sam let out a snort. "Right. Doctor Winchester."

Dean rolled over in his sleeping bag. "Shut up and drink your medicine."

Sam gave a small laugh and took another sip.

"You don't have to stay here, Dean."

"Yes. I do."

"I'm not five anymore, Dean."

"Five or fifty Sammy...that was a hell of a panic attack."

Sam stayed silent.

"Or..." Dean sat up, Sam's hoodie he had borrowed falling over his arms. "Or are you worried that I might embarrass you in front of your flatmates?"

"Shut up. My flatmates are out anyway."

"You go join them then...if you want."

"I need to rest and take my medicine."

Dean smiled. "Want some more?"

"Have you saved me some?"

Dean reached for Sam's glass and replenished it.

"I'm glad you're here, Dean."

"Me too."

"You can...you can stay as long as you want."

Dean looked at him sadly.

"You know that's...that's not going to happen, Sammy."

Sam nodded, unsurprised by the answer.

"You could...you could back with me, Sam. Dad..._I _want you back. We could leave tomorrow morning."

Sam looked back at Dean.

"I'm sorry."

Dean lay back down.

"Me too."

Sam turned so that his back was leaning against the wall.

"Thank you...for looking after me tonight."

He saw Dean shrug his shoulders.

"It's my job Sam."

Sam lay down in his bed.

"Don't leave without saying goodbye tomorrow. Promise?" His voice sounded small and childlike and he regretted it instantly.

Dean didn't reply.

* * *

Sam woke late the next morning, probably exhausted from the attack of the previous day.

"Dean?"

Sam sat bolt upright in his bed. The sleeping bag was rolled neatly in the corner. Dean had gone.

Sam felt suddenly very alone, despite the noises of his flatmates in the house and the two missed calls from Jessica on his phone. He felt alarmed to feel his throat tighten.

As he stood up he noticed an envelope on the empty floor. He hesitated for a second and then bent down. A roll of bills fell out and a photograph. An eight-year-old Dean, was holding Sam. They were both leaning over a birthday cake that read _Happy Birthday, Sammy! _The photograph was folded, as though it had been carried around in a wallet for a long time.

Sam turned the photo round.

_I couldn't say goodbye again...and it will always be my job. _

_Dean_


End file.
